Warmth
by Sumei1
Summary: [Series of One-Shots, varying themes] Because the Elric family was a thing that really should've been elaborated on in all their disorder and adorableness. Holds my attempts at fluff. Disclaimer: FMA and all related ideas belong to their respective owners.
1. Arguments

**1:** **Arguments**

* * *

 _Summary:_ Fathers have left but it's okay- they have their children to protect their honor.

 _Time_ _:_ Sometime before Trisha's inevitable death, Hohenheim has left in search of mortality and Winry's parents have gone off in the Ishvalan war. _Note_ : I've read the manga so I use that. Also I recall reading somewhere that Winry is older than Ed by a bit, however if that's wrong feel free to correct me!

* * *

 _"No!"_

Young Edward Elric, aged five, was currently engaged in one of the fiercest opponents he had ever faced before—he longtime friend and enemy: Winry Rockbell.

Glaring fiercely with bright golden eyes, he scowled, "No! My daddy's _way_ cooler than yours!" She was truly a commendable opponent, but still a enemy and in Edward's young mind that meant that she needed to be defeated.

Huffing in a way seemingly only girls could master, Winry gave a fearsome stare in return. "No—my papa is so much better than you!" She proceeded to stick out her tongue—the child equivalent of a 'your mom' joke, thereby being the utmost insult to Edward.

"Oh yeah?" the blond grumbled, "Well my dad _is_ cooler than yours! And he's _super-duper_ strong!" He proclaimed proudly, the 'duper' clearly putting aside any confusion that Winry may have had that his dad was the coolest in Edward's mind. Nodding resolutely Edward grinned, "And he does this," Edward clapped his hands together and spread them apart dramatically, "and fixes stuff! Y'know, cuz Al is so clumsy and always breaks stuff!"

Still not convinced, Winry muttered something under her breath, and then pulled the fatal card. "But I'm taller and older than you, so what _I_ say goes!" Winry smirked proudly at this argument.

However, the later-to-be Fullmetal Alchemist hadn't grown his irritation in one night—no, it was a deep-seated sore spot for the blond alchemist.

" _What? Who're you calln' short?!_ " Edward screeched in a tone only those who poked at his height ever heard (in other words, most people he knew). "That's it! I'm asking Mom and Granny!"

Trisha Elric sat patiently on the porch in front of her house, watching serenely as her son and Winry shouted agitatedly about matters only children worried about. Sighing contentedly, Trisha looked as a shorter woman stepped out of the house, brushing her aged hands on her apron.

"Ah, Pinako are the cookies finished?" She smiled pleasantly. She made to get up when she felt the blond-haired bundle on her lap rustle and settled back down.

Chewing on her pipe absentmindedly, Pinako nodded, "Mhm, I put them on a cooling tray. Oh look, Ed and Winry seem to be running up here fast."

"Brother?" Al asked moving from his mother's lap, voice still rough. The whole reason they were cooking with the Elric's decently-conditioned stove (ever since Hohenheim had left it had suddenly become all that much harder to fix items that had once seemed simpler to fix before with a clap of the hands) to make cookies was due to Alphonse catching a cold which had always been seen as a worthy cause to make treats in the Elric household. That and Ed and Al could never get enough of their mother's cooking.

But when Edward came up to his mother with the most serious face he could muster with his still-chubby face his question was not about the delicious scent waffling from the kitchen. "Who's dad's cooler?" He pointed in emphasis between Winry and him. "I keep saying daddy's cooler but _she_ keeps saying that her daddy is." Glaring in a way that made Trisha's heart melt, she focused on relaxing her face into an equally solemn expression that was worm upon her son's face.

"Well you see . . ." Dodging the question with all the skill of a mother, Trisha gave a bright smile, "Well you look at that! It seems the cookies are cool enough to eat!"

Despite his serious expression, Edward still had the attention span of a child and he too brightened at the thought of the gooey chocolate-chip cookies that his mother specialized in.

Winry followed Trisha and a sleepy Alphonse inside, not before sticking out her tongue one last time at Edward. "My dad's still cooler _shortie."_

" _Why you- !_ "

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, other than procrastination, I do honestly want to have a whole Hohenheim/Trisha (most under-appreciated canon ship everr- seriously internet I'm ashamed) and family one-shot series since I find them all so adorable (seriously there should have been more canon stuff about them).**


	2. Broken

**2: Broken**

* * *

 _Summary_ : Sure, after ten years Hohenheim didn't have much to show for his parental skills, but that didn't stop him from taking care of his toddler sons when he was around. Because alchemal geniuses they were, that didn't prevent childhood clumsiness.

 _Time_ _:_ Okay, so as Hohenheim is still with them, Ed and Al are pretty young still, I'd say about 2-3 (though really for the story age doesn't particularly affect plot so). Again, this is in the _manga_ timeline!

* * *

Loud wails echoed throughout the empty house. It came from the upper bedrooms and the little child inside cried softly as he sat in the wreckage of his favorite stuffed animal, a blue elephant creatively dubbed Blue. Fat teardrops rolled down his chubby cheeks as he wailed quietly for his mommy.

Hohenheim paused his work from inside his office, candle throwing light on his weary face. "Alphonse?" He called out uncertainly. He had _told_ Trisha that if she left the house some world-destroying catastrophe would occur (probably just to spite him too) but no, his insistent wife had decided on taking Edward and her out to the market that day, and when Trisha Elric said something it got _done_.When no whimper responded, Hohenheim's fatherly instinct took over and, precious alchemy research be damned, he rushed out of the room, knocking over his chair in the process.

Hopping up the stairs with all the agility of a four-hundred plus year old man, Hohenheim slammed open the door of the upstairs room, blond hair in a mess. It was then no surprise that Alphonse burst into a new wave of tears at the sight of his deranged-looking father. Looking at the elephant, Hohenheim sighed exasperatedly.  
"These children will be the death of me," he muttered to himself (himself technically including half a million other souls).

 _You're hopeless with children,_ Emile chided, having been a successful mother herself before dying in the Xerxes genocide.

 _Then what do I_ do _?_ Hohenheim questioned, picking up Alphonse gingerly, nervous to harm his son. His large hands settled gently around Alphonse's heaving rib cage as he continued to wail out his grief for Blue.

"Um . . . let's go downstairs. . ." Hohenheim offered, hoping for some sort of comprehensible answer from the child. No such luck- Hohenheim sighed tiredly.

 _Come on he's you're own child!_ Valentine scowled mentally.

 _How am I supposed to know what to do? I was a slave before not a parent!_ Hohenheim snapped back, frustration at the young child in front of him fueling his irritation.

 _Come on, you're his father- you'll know what to do_ _,_ Valentine admonished, the female population in his mind fiercely agreeing with her.

"Alright then, just let me think. . ." Hohenheim said aloud, face turning into one of intense thought as he scrutinized his toddler son.

Completely ignoring the look of concentration, Alphonse laughed and yanked Hohenheim's beard cheerfully. "Daddy!" He cheered.

Suddenly knowing what to do, Hohenheim sat down, setting down his son down carefully. "Hey Al look at this!" He grinned, seemingly procuring a stick of white chalk from no where. The child's eyes shined, captivated by his father's 'magic'. Gathering up the remains of Blue, Hohenheim pushed them into a pile and drew a circle around them. Alphonse looked on in confusion- what was his daddy doing?

Clapping his hands together, Hohenheim focused on what the stuffed animal looked like before its demise (honestly, what _had_ Alphonse done to it?) and pressed them to the floor, fingertips brushing the chalk. Really, Hohenheim didn't really even need the circle, but it looked cool, and when trying to impress your son, one used the 'cool' route. Blue alchemical light shone from the chalk lines, glow illuminating the awed expression on Alphonse's face. The child made a sound between squealing and a gasp of relief as Blue was returned to his chubby arms.

"Pretty good, huh?" Hohenheim chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. The smile that lighted Alphonse's face made Hohenheim suddenly glad he survived all this time- all these long four hundred years seemed suddenly worth it for his family.

"Let's go start dinner then hmm? Trisha will kill me if the food's burnt again. . . ."

Alphonse trotted behind Hohenheim, Blue dutifully restored back in his position in the crook of the child's arm.

Hohenheim smiled at _his_ child (the thought still surprised him every time).

Because maybe Hohenheim was a monster.

Maybe he didn't deserve to be happy.

Maybe all he'd worked for was pointless.

But at that moment right then, he was simply happy to be alive.


End file.
